Remy and Lorna, Sunday afternoon

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Remy comes to check on Lorna. He’s proud of her, she’s not so proud of herself.



"Thought dat I was de one supposed to be getting into trouble. You going to start chainsmoking and drinking too much now?" Remy's voice filtered through the haze of painkillers that she was on. She had been resting on the couch in the suite she shared with Alex. He'd finally left her side, to arrange food and check on his brother. Remy had snuck a look into the room and seeing her tucked under a blanket, dozing, had taken the chance to slip in and talk to her.

Lorna blinked at him, her eyes taking a long time to focus. “I was jealous. I’m thinking of skipping the smoking and drinking and just taking up a painkiller addiction though. Hurrah for generous doctors.” Her attempt at light-hearted banter fell woefully short, unable to infuse any lightness in her tone. “I’m okay though. I didn’t get shot or anything.” Shot at, but that wasn’t such a problem.

"Obviously de used green bullets." Remy looked at the emerald sheen on her skin, the deeper viridian lips, and almost verdent hair. He came closer, enough to sit back on his heels in front of the couch and look eye to eye with her.

"Bad?"

Lorna shuddered and closed her eyes, nodding mutely. The memories flashed behind her eyes… of riddling Spivak with metal, of watching Nolan slump to the ground, shock still mirrored in his eyes, of Fraser dragging himself along the ground unrelenting, of Piers… “I don’t know if they lived. Piers did but…” Or at least he had still been alive when it had all gone quiet.

"Think you could have done anything different?" Remy said softly, watching the turmoil of memory flash across her face. Part of him twisted at the thought of her in danger, fighting with an equally strong sense of pride for her. She'd gone out and risked herself for what she believed in, accepted the pain and grief, and came home. She was full of surprises.

Lorna had been asking herself that since they’d boarded the ‘bird. “I don’t know. I did my best.” She opened her eyes, “I told Piers I wouldn’t kill them.” Her voice choked with grief.

"Done all dat you can den, chere." Remy reached out, cupped one cheek and stroked it with his thumb. Her pain was bright and shining thing; a grief so thick that it was impossible to miss. "Can't 'pect to do anything more, 'matter who you are."

“I don’t know,” she said again. “Before…back at the warehouse, against that plasma thrower. I didn’t have a choice. I wasn’t well trained enough to come up with any other solution to save my life without taking his. But this? Christ, Remy, they barely knew I existed. They were so focused on the other Mistra agents.”

"Fanatics have dat tendancy. Fought a few in my time." Remy kept his voice deliberately low, knowing that the last thing she needed was loud noises. "So many things dat you can't control in an operation. Every one, you get back and realise all de things dat you not ready for."

“Does it ever go away? Do you ever stop wondering how you failed?” She bit her lips, trying not to cry. “I hate my power right now,” the confession was whispered and not something she was even sure how to explain.

"Non. It doesn't. Fact, dey keep whispering you in de middle of de night." Witness. Faces and voices that accused him as he slept. "But de choice is between doing it and not doing it. Dat's something dat you have to decide if it's worth it for you, chere. Wish dat I could help wit' dat."

“When I asked to be a full team member, it was because I had to. I couldn’t stand back and let everyone else take risks when I was perfectly able. And it was because the kids…they shouldn’t ever have to worry about someone attacking them.” She ran her good hand through her hair, her nails the same shade as her hair. “All I’ve ever wanted was a normal life. How is this normal?”

"It's not. Never going to be here. De teachers are ex-mercenaries, de Professor can mindcontrol de entire state if he feels like it, and you coffee buddy is one of de most brutal killers in de history of Europe." Remy actually smiled. "Normal and Xavier's school not words dat meet in normal conversations."

“Except in that infamous phrase, ‘normal for here’ which usually follows an explosion, altercation, psychically impossible and other wise reality warping event.” Lorna smiled wearily, not really amused. “But we live here like it is. The kids have normal dramas and normal fights and it’s not always like this.” It barely scraped by into a statement, teetering on the edge of being question.

"Best thing dat you can do is just push on sometimes." Remy shook his head. "Dat's what I tell myself everyday. Do de job, get on to tomorrow. Try and make it worthwhile. Maybe dat work for you, maybe not. One thing dat I don't really know what to tell you is how to handle it, since Remy not 'xactly de master of it yet."

“What makes it worth it? All the hours we spend training and the blood and the death…what makes it worth it? I thought I knew.” Lorna closed her eyes again, easily worn out.

"How many did you get out?" Remy asked, having picked up enough from the journals and scattered conversations to understand the reason for the mission.

“I don’t know. I know there were supposed to be about 50 kids in the barracks. And I know that most of the first gens died.” Nolan with a wedge of metal imbedded in his chest, why hadn’t she shielded him too? “Anika lived and all our people.”

"It worth dose fifty?" Remy said, without drama. "Dat's de questions dere, chere."

She wasn’t sure. “We had to get them out. They had to be stopped.”

"And now dey are." Remy finally stood up with that graceful fluidity from his power. "I don't have de answers, Lorna, and you won't either. Not for a long time. But I'm here to help you find dem when you ready. You know dat."

“Remy,” she reached up and caught his hand, tugging him down so she could press a kiss to his cheek, “Thank you.”

"Anytime, Lorna." He stayed there for a moment, enjoying her presence and hoping that his caused any kind of help. "'sides, now I get to bitch 'bout you putting yourself in danger in de e-mails."

“Turnabouts fair play, I guess. But you still can’t complain about people shooting at me like I can you.” She squeezed his hand, unwilling to let go. “You still owe me dinner.”

Remy grinned. "Guess it lucky dat I robbed dat bank before I came up here. Tell you what? You get yourself on you feet and Remy take you out on de town. Dat means you got to get better. 'sides, it's not easy being green."

She swatted at him, smiling even as he ducked away. “Like I’ve never heard that one before.” Her eyes drifted closed momentarily as she fought a losing battle against sleep.

"Work on my material den." Remy pulled the blanket up further for her, and let his fingers drift across her forehead before he stepped away. "You sleep, chere." And don't dream yet, he added mentally before slipping out the door.